


My Worst Fear

by SylviaW1991



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: Brain gets put through an experiment that introduces him to what he fears most. How does he deal with this new, unexpected knowledge and the conclusions he draws from it?
Relationships: Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 275





	1. Chapter 1

This hadn’t been part of the plan. But that was normal, wasn’t it? There was always a mistake, always a flaw, always _something_ in the way of his dreams of world conquest! From the neglect of a hypnotic ingredient in some sort of recipe to a minor error in calculations, there was always something.

But this. This, The Brain had never before experienced. This was an overwhelming fear, an absolute horror that was as inescapable as the situation which caused the emotion. “Pinky! Pinky, do _not_ release me under any circumstances! Do you understand?”

“I-I think so, Brain!” As the fingers around his tightened, Brain chanced a backward glance. His tail was still wrapped tightly around a thin tree root. His chest was pained, drawing breaths a more strenuous activity with each inhalation. He was gasping now, fear choking him. He looked back at the mouse he was clinging too, and felt his tail tighten its hold almost of its own accord. He couldn’t let go, couldn’t lose his dearest friend.

Yes, they’d survived falls before with minimal injury - Brain heartily thanked the gene splicer for their incredible recuperative abilities as their plans often led to them getting blown up, crushed, run over, boiled. But this was a fall Brain _knew_ Pinky wouldn’t survive. Even with his insurmountable supply of plain dumb luck, there was no surviving this. There was only fire down below, an angry shade Brain had come across only in nightmares. And it would kill Pinky.

“Don’t let go!” Pinky wailed and his feet kicked, desperate for contact with some sort of hard surface.

“Never, Pinky!” There was a creak and a snap and Brain let out a gasping cry of pain. When he looked back next one of the breaks of his tail had gone straight.

Pinky went limp, staring up at Brain with wide blue eyes. “Brain...? Brain, are you hurt?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he snapped, tail burning. _Don’t fail me now..._ “Pinky, I’m... I’ll never let you go. No matter what. Try and climb up, Pinky. Do you think you can do that?”

“I can! I can do it, Brain!” One of his hands released his grip on Brain, both mice whimpering slightly as he lifted his shaking hand and placed it higher on Brain’s arm. He gripped tightly and Brain bit his lip, trying to ignore his own pains as Pinky began his slow climb. The flames seemed to be leaping higher, snapping at the mouse’s heels. There was another creak, another snap, and another of the bends in Brain’s tail had straightened.

He couldn’t bite back the cry and Pinky stilled, eyes filling with concern. “No, Brain, I can’t. You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be _fine_!” Fresh fear filled him, shot down his spine like a lightning bolt. He grasped Pinky’s arms as Pinky grasped his. “Do _not_ let me go, Pinky! You promised me you wouldn’t let go!”

Pinky gazed at him for a long moment. “No, I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t, but I never promised.”

“Pinky, _please_ -”

“Good luck taking over the world, Brain.” Tears filled his eyes. “Narf...”

“Don’t-” But it was too late. Pinky had released him and The Brain simply wasn’t strong enough to hold him alone. “Pinkyyyyyyyy!” he shouted as the mouse fell and fell, disappearing into the flames. And Brain was left alone, hanging onto a cliff by his broken tail, and staring into the flames that had just swallowed his dearest friend.

As he hung, there was suddenly a wrench in his chest and he gasped when his heart tore from its cavity and went after Pinky. Clutching his oddly bloodless chest, the mouse managed to get back to solid ground and crawl further from the edge and from the flames. Before him lay a small keychain with the world dangling at the end.

Brain started to reach for it, curled his fingers around the globe as well as he could. Tears welled in his eyes because it opened in his hand and it was hollow. “Pinky,” he whispered and the keychain fell to the ground. “Pinky, don’t leave me!” he shouted and leapt to his feet, running right over the edge of the cliff and into the flames.

-8-8-

He awoke abruptly, experiencing a sharp pain in his throat as he did. There was someone shouting - screaming - but it was so raspy that... It was him...!

Brain closed his mouth, slumped against what wasn’t his bed. He looked around wildly, eyes wide and frightened, and realized that he was lying on a stretcher with sensors attached to various points of his body. Cranium, heart, lungs, stomach, spots on his legs and arms...

“He’s awakened, sir.” The young feminine voice made him shiver. The lab had begun to accept... college interns. It was nauseating, all the different faces disrupting the routine Brain had become accustomed to. The students were vastly interested in him and Pinky, several of them having observed their odd penchant for walking on two legs, Pinky’s obsession with television, and Brain’s preoccupation with books.

“So I see, but we’ll let the subject get its bearings before we transport it back to its cage.” That voice was more familiar, one of the regular scientists in the lab. “While he does, feel free to share some of your observations.”

“Well, he fell asleep very quickly once you introduced the serum. Um, 4.6 seconds to be exact. He seemed to sleep peacefully - no sounds or any excessive movement - for exactly four minutes before he began to react.” There was a small shuffle of pages. “Full-body trembling that evolved into thrashing within thirty seconds. With the thrashing came the sounds. Outcries of what we can assume was pain and fear and, two minutes before he awakened, there were only screams. He sounded...”

“Yes?” the scientist prompted.

“He sounded almost human, sir.” Brain hardly paid attention as the small hands of the assistant encased him, deftly removing the sensors, and lifted him from the small stretcher. “It’s inconclusive as to whether or not your serum awakened his greatest fear, but you absolutely induced a nightmare in the poor little thing.”

“The subject,” the man corrected. “They’re mice, my dear, not people. Think of them as subjects, objects upon which we experiment, and nothing more.”

“Yes, sir.” But the scientist turned his back and the young woman lifted Brain to her cheek. She had several pet mice at home and it had sickened her to watch the poor, big-headed thing thrashing and screaming until his tiny throat was raw. “I’m so sorry, little guy,” she whispered. “Here you go. Back home with your little friend. He looks so worried, doesn’t he?”

What she hadn’t included in her official observations were the reactions of the mouse in the cage this mouse had been drawn from. First, he hadn’t liked when the big-headed thing had been taken away, but he’d settled in his wheel and had seemed to forget about him.

But when the outcries had started and then the screaming, the rather gawky mouse had run along the bars, shouting “Narf!” repetitively. The scientist had, when she’d asked, simply waved a hand and told him these two mice were part of a failed genetic splicing experiment. The tall one, for whatever reason, could make the inane exclamation and do no more. The small one was just bad-tempered, had been selected for this particular experiment in the hopes of shocking him into better behavioral patterns.

The assistant gave the little mouse a gentle stroke before opening the door of his cage and depositing him within. The gawky mouse ran over immediately, grabbing the smaller one and carrying him to a little matchbox bed that they shared. It was cute, she thought, that the two were so close. Particularly since they were two males. She couldn’t have two boys living together; they’d fight constantly if she did.

And she would’ve been happy to continue to watch the two mice, but she was called over to leave the room. That had been the last experiment of the night and she had a pregnant mouse at home to tend to!

When the lights were flipped off and the caged creatures left to their own devices for the night, there was a squeaky sound of a cage-door opening, and a quiet “ _Poit_ ” as the lanky mouse scrambled from the unlocked cage - oh, and wasn’t it lucky that the girl had left it open? He ran over to a light on their table, flicking it on to see better. He hopped over the remote in his haste to return to the cage and completely forgot about switching on the television as he usually did after the people in their long white coats left.

He ran back in, filling a thimble with water from their bottle before taking it to the still-trembling Brain. He sat down beside the mouse, eyes wide, and helped him take several swallows. “D’you want some hot tea, Brain?” he offered, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

The mouse looked up, mind swirling. His worst fear. From what the young assistant had said, they’d been trying to expose him to it. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to why, though he could’ve easily gone to one of the computers to look up the experiments as he often did at night. But at that moment, he simply didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go anywhere at all and while hot tea would’ve been lovely, he didn’t want Pinky to leave. “No, Pinky, the water is fine.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded scratchy and worn. The taller mouse shifted imperceptibly closer, his companion silently grateful for it.

Never before had The Brain had such a vivid dream. Flashes, perhaps. Vignettes. But never something so... He glanced back at his tail, studied its familiar jagged form, and tried to ignore the fact that it still hurt. To distract himself, he took another sip of water.

“Pinky,” he began and cleared his throat to rid himself of some of the raspiness. “Pinky, there’s no reason for you to worry. I’m perfectly alright.”

Pinky was quiet long enough that Brain began to wonder if his friend had even understood what he’d said. He sighed and started to repeat himself, but arms enveloped him and tucked him close. “I was so _scared_ , Brain! _Narf!_ I couldn’t see where you were, but you were making all these _sounds_... Egad, Brain! I thought... I thought...”

Pinky had been driven to thoughts. Just how badly _had_ he been screaming?

“Ey!” A familiar voice snapped. Both Pinky and Brain looked to the side of their cage and Brain was mortified to discover half the lab watching them. He leaned away from Pinky and tried to speak, but ended up coughing harshly.

Pinky dragged him close again, but lifted a hand and waved. “Hiii!” he greeted.

“Look ‘ere, what’d they _do_ to ‘im?” one of the mice demanded.

“Um... Brain?” Pinky looked down. “What’d they do?”

“Exposed me to my worst fear, Pinky. In a terrifying, realistic dreamscape.”

“Right.” Pinky nodded once, as if he understood perfectly. But Brain could see after just a few short seconds how blank his expression truly was.

So, shaking his head, Brain got to his feet and carried his water to one of the computers. Pinky scrambled after him, the others following. After passing the thimble to Pinky, Brain leapt from key to key until he had the serum pulled up. “This,” he announced, “is what they did. Now, all of you, leave me be.”

With that raspy request, Brain jumped back off of the keyboard and strode away to get back to his cage. He stopped partway there, though, when he noticed that Pinky wasn’t with him. Hating the fission of fear that came with that realization, he turned and went back to the mouse, grabbing his hand. “Come along, Pinky.”

“But, Brain, you said everyone had to leave you all alone!”

Brain glared up at him, dragging Pinky away. “That doesn’t include you, Pinky. You’re... That is, you _belong_ by my side. Always. Do you understand?”

“Um... I think so, Brain, but won’t that make your plan-making difficult? You like to be on your own when you do that.”

Brain sighed, releasing Pinky’s hand to rub at a forming headache. “No, Pinky, I didn’t mean literally. I meant... Never mind.” That dream had caused more damage to his mind than he’d assumed, if he was getting so clingy and emotional towards Pinky.

“Here’s your water, Brain.”

“Thank you.” He took the proffered thimble and glanced down into it. “It’s empty.”

“I got a little thirsty,” Pinky admitted and Brain shook his head, going to the water bottle to fill it up again. “Poit.”

“Luckily, tonight’s plan won’t require overmuch much talking on my part.”

“But Brain...”

He turned back, taking a sip from the thimble. “What is it?”

“The plan. Wuh- Are you sure you want to try and take over the world tonight?”

Brain looked down into the water, swirled it carefully. “It was only a dream, Pinky. It’s already fading from memory.” Which was an absolute lie, but he didn’t want to admit it to the other mouse.

“Alright, Brain, but how are you going to tell me the plan without talking?”

He sighed quietly. His throat was simply raw; he wasn’t losing his voice. But he didn’t feel like being condescending when Pinky was obviously just worried about him. There was also the prickling sense of vulnerability, keeping him from saying anything that may drive Pinky away from him. “Come along, old friend.”

The endearment, such as it was, slipped from him easily. Calling him friend was easy; it was obvious. They’d been through entirely too much together for them to anything less. Brain paused suddenly, looking back at Pinky. The mouse instantly looked even more concerned, coming closer and taking a hold of Brain’s arm. “Don’t go, Brain. Not tonight.”

Brain’s first and usual instinct was to pull away and go on as scheduled, but... Emotions warred in him, slowing him down, making him take time to consider. With Pinky so worried, would he truly be an assent for tonight’s plan? And, well, even though this plan didn’t require much conversation, he knew very well that he often had to repeat his instructions to Pinky several times over.

Additionally, if the ploy worked, Brain needed to be able to deliver one of several pre-prepared speeches. The likelihood of him having to shout at Pinky exponentially increased his chances of being unable to deliver one of said speeches.

“Brain?” Pinky said, interrupting his thoughts as he often had a tendency to do. He nudged the smaller mouse with a gentle poke. “Are you pondering, Brain?”

Brain rubbed his head where the other mouse had poked, sighing quietly and giving in. “I could use that hot tea now.”

There was a moment of silence. “Use it for what?”

He bopped him on the head lightly enough that it was hardly forceful enough to be considered a bop. “To drink, Pinky.”

Pinky rubbed his head, a little confused by the half-hearted strike. “So we’re not taking over the world?”

“Not tonight.”

Pinky’s eyes lit up. “Oh, goody! A whole night to do all sorts of fun-fun silly-willy things, Brain! Oh, how _exciting_!”

“Yes. My micro-electrodes are tingling with delight.”

Though, as usual, his sarcasm was entirely lost on Pinky, who danced away to make tea for his friend. Brain only sighed and went to the matchbox bed they shared. He sank onto the edge, watching the other mice as they quickly migrated back to their cages. He supposed he should go over to the computer himself, look over the serum they’d exposed him to.

Like before, though, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. With Pinky out of sight, he was already uncomfortable. At least the cage was familiar and Pinky’s scent hung in the air. Brain took another sip of water, trying to think of his dream in clinical terms. The meaning of it had been extremely obvious.

He feared losing Pinky. Taking over the world without him would be hollow and then... He shuddered, getting to his feet to go after his friend. He so feared losing Pinky, could still see the fire engulfing him, taking him away. It was a distasteful thing, realizing that one’s greatest fear was something oft wished for.

Which was horrible in and of itself, Brain acknowledged, leaping from the counter to the floor without managing to spill his thimble. But, really, he had never once wished for Pinky’s death. Temporary departure, temporary replacement. Never something as permanent as death. No one had ever stayed with him as long as Pinky. Why, even the few times Brain had given Pinky a brilliant intellect he’d wanted to stay by his side.

He pushed open the door to the little kitchen area and Pinky waved enthusiastically at him, though they’d been separate for mere minutes. “Brain! There’s _hot chocolate_! Can you believe it?!”

It was a rare enough occurrence that Pinky’s enthusiasm wasn’t entirely misplaced, so Brain made his way up to join him at the coffee pot. “Astounding, Pinky.”

“Will you make me some, Brain? Puh-leeease?” He grasped Brain’s arm, eyes big and wide. “Please, Brain? Will you? Please! Don’t make me beg, Brain! Please!”

He was wailing now, but Brain only finished off his water while Pinky’s begging grew increasingly louder and then slammed the thimble onto his head, cutting off the whiny tirade. It was baffling, honestly, that the mouse could make excellent tea with ease, but couldn’t figure out simple powdered hot chocolate.

Then again, what about Pinky _wasn’t_ baffling?

He watched Pinky totter about, the thimble over his head, muffling his giggling, and felt his lips twitch. Perhaps it was Pinky’s pure enjoyment of the punishment Brain’s frustrations tended to demand was what drew _him_ to Pinky. He knew very well that no one else would enjoy it so much, just as he knew he’d never do so in a way that would actually _hurt_ his companion.

But all the analyzing, and possible over-analyzing, of the subject was giving him a headache, so he decided to derail the train of thought for a bit. “Yes, Pinky, I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

Pinky pried the thimble off of his head, his cranium retaining the shape for a moment. “Goody!” he cried and his head popped back to normal with enough force that he toppled over. “Zort! That was _fun_ , Brain! Are you almost feeling all better again?”

He cleared his throat, already regretting the lack of water. “Yes.”

“Oh, good.” He laughed, throwing in a _narf_. “I was worried there for a minute what with all the shaking and the screaming and the-”

“ _Enough_ , Pinky, please!” Though the emphasis fell a little flat as he started to cough. Pinky pulled him close immediately, rubbing his head as if that would be of any assistance. Brain’s ears twitched, lowered, and the headache that had bloomed dissipated even while the coughs continued for a few more seconds. ...Odd. “Thank you, Pinky... That should be enough heated water in the pot now.”

“Oh! Right.” Pinky scampered off and Brain’s ears twitched back to their normal position. Useless in one situation, excellent completely by accident in another... Why? he wondered. Why was Pinky such an... anomaly? Moreover, why did The Brain tolerate his company so consistently?

Again, the ponderings were on a subject he had no wish to ponder over, so the thoughts were banished and he moved closer to help his friend avoid burning himself. “Pinky! Be careful with that; it’s hot!” The wail he let out when it was his own body that was introduced to the boiling liquid sent him into a coughing fit that lasted until his tea was good and strong.

Pinky was _lucky_ that Brain was still nice enough to make him hot chocolate.


	2. Chapter 2

Letting Pinky select a film was a true sign of his own insanity, Brain was sure of it. But Pinky had been so enthusiastic about choosing their activity and, well, when he’d suggested a film rather than playing in jell-o or licking the floors clean, Brain had been startled into acquiescence.

“Here, Brain!” He handed over a piece of popcorn, grinning broadly as he took a seat directly beside Brain on their bed. And Brain was warmed from the inside when he felt the blanket drape over his shoulders.

“Thank you, Pinky...”

With a broad grin, Pinky stomped on the play button and Brain mentally prepared himself for some sort of inanity he wouldn’t be able to sleep through simply because the bright colors would be too bright and the loud noises just too loud.

He was entirely unprepared for the darkness of the opening scene, the black and white picture moving slowly over a room, to a man in a bed. A close-up, a single word uttered, and a shattered snowglobe. His jaw very nearly hit the floor, it dropped so quickly. “Wha- what is this, Pinky?”

“I dunno. But Gerry said it’s the best film ever made!” he explained happily, referring to the genetically altered hamster in the room next-door. “It’s lost all its color, too, Brain, so I knew you’d like it! Poit.”

Lost all its color. Humph. Childish notions. Absolutely foolish! Almost against his will, the large-headed mouse reached out, laid his hand over his friend’s and gave a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, old friend.”

“Hush, Brain! This is the best part!”

The “best part” would hardly be in the first ten minutes of the film - and Brain was certain Pinky had never before watched this - but the mouse didn’t argue. He left his hand where it was to make sure Pinky would stay nearby and fell silent.

And when Pinky fell asleep before the first hour was up, Brain adjusted the blanket so it would encompass them both and let Pinky’s head rest upon his shoulder. By the end of the film, he’d managed to mostly put the nightmare out of his mind. The scientists could introduce him to his biggest fear, but they most certainly couldn’t damage him with it. Pinky was perfectly safe, as evidenced by the soft narf-snores against his shoulder.

While the credits rolled, Brain maneuvered Pinky to his side of the bed and tucked him in before jumping on the remote to shut off both television and VHS player. The other room was outfitted with a DVD player, but since theirs was a seldom used room, they had to make due. Brain found a certain comfort in it, just as he did old Spinatra records and the old black-and-white film Pinky had selected.

He slid into bed, guided only by moonlight, and curled up on his side, facing Pinky as he so rarely did. He let his eyes drift closed, started to open them again as he pondered the possibility that the serum would give him _more_ nightmares.

But then his lanky companion sidled close and began tickling Brain’s ear with his quiet snores. Rather than shove him away as normal, Brain allowed the sleeping mouse stay close. He let his brow rest upon Pinky’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut. Soon, the gentle rise and fall of Pinky’s chest lulled him into a deep, blessedly dreamless sleep.

-8-8-

The squeaking of the wheel awakened him. Brain remained where he was a little bit longer, never one to simply jump out of bed in the mornings unless he had an idea that inspired him. For now, he was content to lie where he was and listen to the squeaking of the wheel and the muffled laughter. Pinky was always careful to be quiet when he slept, a favor Brain had been tempted to take advantage of more than once. He had yet to do so, though, as the temptation usually presented itself when he was in the middle of something important. Faking a nap would simply be a waste of time, particularly when a simple “Simon Says” would get the job done.

He smiled slightly, rolling onto his back. His eyes fluttered open, the ceiling of their cage a welcome sight. He was extremely grateful to have avoided any nightmares through the night. No lasting effects, then, from that horrid serum. Sitting up, Brain stretched and listened as the muffled laugh became a full-blown one. “Good morning, Brain! You’ve been asleep _so_ long!”

“Have I?” he asked, knowing he hadn’t been. The scientists and their new aides were still chatting over coffee, milling around for vague check-ups. He jolted a little when he realized that the young aide who’d helped give him the serum the night before was standing over their cage, scribbling something down. Brain gave her a baleful look before moving closer to Pinky.

“Oh, _yes_ , Brain! You have been! I have _so_ much to tell you!” He didn’t stop running mindlessly about in his wheel and Brain didn’t ask him to stop; he would decide he’d gotten where he wanted to go soon enough.

“What sorts of things do you have to tell me?”

“Your breakfast is right over there!” Pinky nodded his head in the direction of the sardine tin that held papers that were entirely off-limits to the lankier of the two. There was a plate, a piece of a doll-sized tea set purchased from the local toy store because Pinky had absolutely adored the pattern of blue flowers that went along the edges, resting atop the tin with one and a half food pellets atop it. “I cooked it all by myself,” Pinky announced proudly.

Brain chose to refrain from the scathing remark that came to mind, simply rolling his eyes instead. “Thank you, Pinky. You clearly put a lot of effort into it.” Brain imagined he’d taken it in and out of the tiny plastic oven several times before deciding the pellets were done. Patting his stomach, he meandered over to the tin to eat and was very quietly abashed when he saw the thimble of tea lying beside it. He picked it up, taking a testing sip. It was still warm, but not blisteringly so. Oh, Pinky...

“Pinky, come and sit with me,” Brain called, as pleased by the tea as he was humbled by it. At times, he truly did have to wonder why Pinky put up with _him_.

“Just a sec, Brain! I’m almost there!” He sped up a bit, tongue lolling.

Brain only adjusted himself so he could watch the mouse, munching thoughtfully on one of the pellets. He was a simple creature, Pinky. But incredibly loyal, hardworking, and ever the optimist. He wasn’t overly bright, but some of his inane ramblings had been inspiration for several of Brain’s schemes. And his capacity for sheer dumb luck had probably kept the pair of them from being killed more than once. 

But still, in this moment of melancholic reflection, The Brain had to wonder why Pinky stayed with him. He was well-aware that some of the things he did to the mouse were downright abusive, or would be if Pinky had any concept of the word or less enjoyment of the bops to the head and random usage in experiments. He’d agreed to allow Brain to attempt to push him along the evolutionary chain, followed him to the depths of the ocean, and had even endured a stint in Hades after selling his soul.

They even had a son together. Though the thought of Roman gave Brain pause. They really needed to give their wayward clone a visit. Was he still living with that... human woman? Pat, also known as Bunny. He gave a small shudder. That had absolutely been Pinky’s influence, both genetic and developmental. Still, Brain couldn’t deny that he lo... Well, tolerated Roman as much as he tolerated Pinky. 

The slip-up, while strictly in his mind, gave Brain pause. He narrowed his eyes a fraction, taking a sip of the tea Pinky had prepared for him. _Loved_. It was fairly preposterous. He didn’t feel the things for Pinky that he had for Billie, or even for Trudy. That yearning to stay with them always, the desire to hear their opinions on his ponderings, the need to see them happy. He already _had_ those things with...

He was always with Pinky, simply because he wanted to be. He always asked Pinky’s opinion because, while generally inane, the mouse was always willing to provide them. And he always got to see Pinky happy because Pinky _was_ happy. And didn’t he feel horrid each time Pinky was upset, or when they were separated, or when...

“Oh, sweet lord, what have I done?” he mumbled to himself, staring at Pinky, simply stunned by the conclusion he’d just come to. Trying to discover why Pinky stayed with _him_ had somehow led him to discovering just why he stayed with _Pinky_. It seemed impossible and perfectly logical all at once, which only served to make Brain a bit dizzy.

He lifted the thimble and took a gulp of tea. Tea that Pinky had made just for him. Oh, sweet Susanna... “Brain?” He jolted, some of the tea sloshing onto his hands.

“Pinky, don’t _do_ that!”

“Don’t do what, Brain?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, wiping off his hands and setting the tea aside.

But Pinky only smiled, his tail swishing behind him. “You sound so much better today!”

“I should hope so after a full nights rest. It was only a sore throat.” Pinky dropped down and Brain struggled with his composure. He couldn’t possibly have _fallen_ for the childish creature! It was preposterous, outrageous, unbelievable! Why, in all his days-

“You look all funny, Brain. Your face is doing all sorts of weird things.” Pinky demonstrated, screwing his face up in ways Brain very highly doubted his was doing, and giggled. “Oh, I just _love_ silly faces! Narf!”

Of course he did. Pinky loved everything. Everything, he repeated to himself and looked away. Did that include-? No! No, no, no! Brain rubbed a hand over his face, trying to think. Surely he could rationalize the conclusion away as easily as he’d rationalized the conclusion itself. When he noticed motion, though, he looked up. Pinky had grabbed his toes and was rocking, eyeing Brain curiously.

Sighing, the mouse reached out and touched Pinky’s hand. “Stop that.”

“Because... why?”

“Because I told you to, Pinky.”

He made a soft little disappointed noise, but stopped his rocking and cocked his head to the side, studying Brain. “Are you okay, Brain? Are you still a scaredy-scared scat cat?” He blinked. “Mouse.”

“No, I’m perfectly alright.” He looked at his tea, no longer touched by it but terrified. “Just... here.” He offered the rest of his food pellet to Pinky, shoving the plate closer to him.

“D’you not like it?”

He looked hurt, which made Brain wince. “It’s delicious, Pinky. I just... find myself quite full.”

“Oh!” Satisfied with the explanation, Pinky snatched up the pellet and virtually swallowed it whole. How he still managed to cover his face in crumbs was a mystery, but Brain found himself snatching up a napkin (a torn tissue) to dash the crumbs away.

“You’re an absolute mess,” he scolded while Pinky waited obediently. “Now go back to your wheel, Pinky. I have work to do.”

“‘Kay!” He scrambled up and scampered over to his wheel and Brain looked to the tea again. Sighing, he picked up the thimble.

“Pinky?” He didn’t respond that time, but his ears perked and he looked over. “Thank you for making me tea.”

“You’re welcome, Brain!” And so, delighted, Pinky resumed his running to nowhere and Brain went and grabbed a pencil and his little notebook. He slapped it to the floor and began scribbling down all the reasons he had no business being in love with Pinky. He didn’t dare make a list of why it was alright, half-afraid that it would be longer than it needed to be.

So engrossed in it, he almost didn’t hear the scientist and his aide. It wasn’t until a shadow fell over the cage that he noticed enough to focus on them. “-ill effects.”

“But we can’t be sure of that,” the aide argued. “I don’t want to inject any of the others without studying the first one again.”

“You’ve studied him most of the day,” the man pointed out. “You said yourself that he’s displaying perfectly normal behavior. You can run additional tests on him while his cagemate is sleeping.”

“You want to inject his little cagemate?!”

Brain’s ears dropped. _Pinky!_ He leapt to his feet, ignoring the rest of their argument, and went straight to Pinky. Where he got the energy to run so much was beyond him, but Brain couldn’t imagine how irritating Pinky would be without that outlet. “Pinky!”

He looked over, smiled brightly. “Hi, Brain!”

“Stop running this instant!” Brain snapped and Pinky followed the instruction exactly, halting his motions immediately. The wheel, however, continued to spin and took Pinky along for the ride. “Pinky!” Irritated, more worried than he wanted to admit, Brain reached out without thinking to grab him and ended up getting sucked into the spin. “Whoa!”

“Wahahahaha!” was Pinky’s contrasting laughter as they spun and spun until the wheel finally slowed, leaving them tangled together on the creaking metal object. “That was fun! Ahahaha- _narf_!”

“Absolutely... thrilling,” Brain managed, stumbling off the wheel. But then the cage door opened and Brain snapped back to awareness. He had absolutely no intention of allowing the girl to take Pinky, to inject him with that foul serum.

He backed against the wheel and against Pinky, blocking him from her grasp. She was quick to withdraw her hand and smiled warmly at them. “Yeah, I know. I don’t want to take him either, little guy.”

“Take who?” Pinky whispered, instinct more than Brain’s repeated warnings keeping him from talking too loudly in front of the scientists.

“You, Pinky. They want to take you.”

“For what?”

The spark of excitement in his tone had Brain glaring over his shoulder. “They want to give you a nightmare, you ill-advised imbecile.”

Pinky scooted back a little, toppling out of the wheel and getting stuck between the toy and the bars. “...Poit.”

With a sharp glare, gaze daring the young woman to try and take _his_ Pinky away and hurt him, Brain went to the side and grabbed the mouse’s hand to pull him out. Pinky, as far as The Brain knew, had never been faced with something he feared. As far as Brain knew, he didn’t even have any fears. So Brain absolutely despised the idea of his childish, innocent companion being forced to experience it. He recalled how long his own tail had throbbed, his own edginess had lasted, after his dream. He wouldn’t let it happen to Pinky. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

It took a few tugs before Pinky popped free, the force of which sending them both rolling and crashing against the bars. Brain looked around quickly, worsening his own dizziness while Pinky laughed beside him. The aide had gone. Brain got unsteadily to his feet, pressing a hand to the side of his head.

“They’re _mice_!” the scientist pointed out, the anger clear in his tone. “Just reach in there and grab him!”

“But sir-”

“Enough. Honestly.” He marched over, flipped open the cage door, and reached in. A protective instinct surged through The Brain, overwhelming him for a staggering moment. He leapt at the intruding hand and sank his teeth deep into the flesh. “Yeowch!” The scientist jerked his hand back, waving it rapidly, and Brain made a disgusted face. He’d just... debased himself for Pinky. It was another reason for the list he’d been making before.

He tried to glare at Pinky, but the irritated expression faded at the actual surprise adorning Pinky’s features. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You bit him!” Pinky flapped his hands as if he had no idea what else to do with them. With a pained expression, Brain shuffled towards Pinky again, sitting against the side of the cage beside him, and said nothing about it. “Oh, Brain!” The smaller mouse tensed the moment Pinky’s arms wrapped around him, dragging him close for a tight, impulsive hug. “You _saved_ me!”

“Stop it, Pinky. I did no such thing.” Brain tried to shove away. “I merely prevented you from suffering the same fate I did yesterday.” Which, admittedly, amounted to the same thing. Disentangling himself from the embrace, Brain rose and went to their cage door, slamming it shut. “Alright. Now that that’s over, you and I can- ow!” He jumped, looking back. The scientist, a little red-faced, held a needle in his hand. Brain rubbed his hip where the small needle had gone in.

“He poked you with a jabby-thingy, Brain.”

“Brilliant deduction, old friend. I don’t know how you managed it.” Brain was started to weave where he stood, still managing to glare angrily at the scientist.

“Oh, that was easy, Brain. I watched him! Zort!”

Brain didn’t waste his energy glaring at Pinky only because he didn’t have energy to waste. He collapsed, his world going black with Pinky’s despairing wail in his ears.


	3. Chapter 3

It was really cold. And not in the nice way it had been up in the North Pole. Or was it down? Brain would know. “Brain!” Pinky called. There was a shadow in the distance, the big head unmistakable. “Oh, there you are!” Grinning, Pinky ran after it, ended up running smack into a tree. He blinked, backing up. “So sorry,” he apologized, brushing off the trees bark as if he’d left dust. “I seem to have mistaken you for my friend. He’s got-” Before his eyes, the tree shot into the ground.

“Oh. Well. Mr. Rude tree that’s so rude,” he insulted, folding his arms. He shivered, a blast of wind reminding him that it was cold. He rubbed his arms, shivering. “Brain! It’s awfully cold, Brain! Where’s the lab?” He trotted along, the colorful world turning grey.

He stopped at a blueberry bush, eyes big and wide. “Oh, no! You’re losing all your pretty colors! I’ll sav-” And, like the tree, the bush shot into the ground. Pinky blinked several times before hitting himself in the head to try and help himself figure out what was happening.

He turned to go the other way, back towards all the pretty colors, but they were gone and there was just a wall. He reached out, marveling the quickness with which the wall had been created. “Naaarf!” That only could’ve been Brain, so Pinky knew he was on the right path.

He turned and skipped along the path, always a little surprised when a plant would vanish each time he tried to talk to it. And then the plants started disappearing before he could even get to them and the color was going faster and faster. There was only white and a very pale grey now, but it was such a big void of white and the grey so light that he could hardly differentiate the two. They seemed to stretch for miles, but each time he turned there was just another wall.

He caught his tail in his hands, looking about. There wasn’t even any nice grass to talk to. It was all white, but when he reached down to pat the ground, a hole formed and he touched only air. “B-Brain!” He started to run now, realizing that the ground disappeared with every footstep. He started to climb a tree, let out a wail when a branch came around and slapped him away. The fun of the flight lasted only briefly before he landed in a rose bush.

Thorny vines crawled out, encircled him, and began to scrape against him. It wasn’t a fun pain, much to his surprise, but a painful one. His fur was dragged out, the skin beneath torn. Whimpering, he managed to free himself and started to run. “Brain!” he shouted. “Brain, where are we?” A vine wrapped around his ankle, yanked hard and he fell to the ground. “Ow!”

He rolled and started to try and pry the vine from him, but it only tightened its grip until Pinky was hanging upside-down. He started to try and swim through the air to get across to the ground that was still in the distance, to all the pure white. But he stilled and stared at his hand. It was no longer pink, but grey... His other hand was grey, his feet were grey...

He gasped, horrified. “Oh, no! All my color! Brain!” he shouted. “Brain, they took it all! They stole all my colors!”

There was the sound of a whip cracking and Pinky was flying through the air and over a wall. He landed hard and didn’t laugh because he hadn’t landed on his behind or his head, but his hip, and that _hurt_. He wasn’t used to that sensation at all, so yelped instead of laughed and adjusted.

There was a faint whiff of moldy cheese in the air, though, so Pinky quickly recovered and hopped to his feet. It was another maze! Oh, it was just like the time that he and Brain had gone through all the silly-willy rooms with walls that weren’t very solid at all and Brain had gone on and on about finding a chip. Why he thought just one chip would satisfy was baffling to Pinky, but he generally didn’t understand what Brain went on about anyhoo.

But this maze already wasn’t much fun. For one, Brain wasn’t anywhere to be found! And his fur was starting to hurt and sting really badly from all the nasty scratches. Where was Brain? It was usually so very easy to find him... after Brain found him, anyway. “Braaaain!” he called and started going along the pale walls to try and find his friend. Normally, he could leap up and grasp the top of the wall to peer over it, but he couldn’t do that here. He tried, though, several times. But every time his fingers met solid wall and he fell right back to the floor.

Minutes or hours pass, Pinky wandering through the maze with no sign of The Brain. The lack of color everywhere was beginning to sting his eyes and the scent of cheese was far gone. Something unfamiliar tingled in his belly and tightened his throat. He couldn’t name the emotion, but it wasn’t anything that made him happy.

“Brain...?” His voice was quiet, quivering, and the tail in his grasp was being worried by trembling hands. “Poit...” Where was he? Where was Brain? Why weren’t the scientists taking him out of this place? “My eyes hurt...”

He started to lean against the wall in defeat, but with his sniffling came a familiar scent that brightened him entirely. “Brain!” he squealed and ran along the walls, smacking into one more than once thanks to his squinting. Finally, finally, _finally_ there was color. There was _Brain_!

“Oh, Brain! I _found_ you!” Thrilled, Pinky snatched the smaller mouse up and held him tightly, nuzzled his large head with an almost desperate fondness.

“Enough, Pinky, enough!” Brain shoved away, somehow looking more irritated than normal. His eye wasn’t twitching and he wasn’t making an angry-mad-angry face, but Pinky could _feel_ his irritation.

“What’s wrong, Brain...?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” he snapped and started away. Pinky followed happily, and was startled when Brain shoved him right into a wall. He blinked several times while Brain just glared at him. “Stop it, Pinky.”

“Wuh... What’d I do, Brain?” He wasn’t used to that. Brain would bop him on the head or slam it in hats or walnuts, but he never ever just shoved Pinky for no good reason.

“Leave me alone!” Brain angrily stomped off, leaving Pinky behind to contemplate this odd behavior.

Not one for contemplation, however, the taller mouse hopped to his feet and ran after his friend. “Brain, wait! Where’s the end of the maze?”

“There is no end of the maze, Pinky. You’re _trapped_. I can leave whenever I like!” And through a wall he went. When Pinky tried to follow, though, he met only a solid surface and bounced back. He sat on the floor, began wringing his tail again. He didn’t want to be trapped and he didn’t want Brain to yell at him when he’d just found him...

So he jumped up and started to find Brain again. When he finally did, he was squinting and his heart was doing funny things in his chest and there were tears in his eyes. But this time he didn’t run up and grab his friend because he had a pencil in his hand and he was writing in one of his big notebooks. Brain _really_ didn’t like it when he interrupted his pondering’s.

The mouse looked up, though, and made a disgusted sound. Pinky had never heard that sound before, and it definitely didn’t sound very nice. “What now?”

“I’m... My tummy’s doing funny things, Brain, and my heart’s going real fast... Don’t go away again...”

He sat up, scowling. “Pinky, I’m _working_. Can’t you just go away and leave me alone?”

“B-but it’s so bright, Brain...”

“‘B-but it’s so bright,’” Brain mimicked, pitching his voice high. _That_ wasn’t very nice at all and so unlike Brain that Pinky’s tummy started doing even weirder things. He sniffled and Brain rallied his pencil, smacking Pinky hard just between the ears. And it _hurt_!

Pinky crumpled to the floor, hands flying to his aching cranium. “Ow!” A bop to the head had never _hurt_ before!

He looked up at Brain, watching as an unusual smile crept across Brain’s features. Pinky didn’t recognize it, so didn’t expect the cruelty that followed. There was another swing of the pencil and another painful bop. Pinky yelped, squirming away, and the pencil came down again. “Brain! Stop it, Brain!”

But the abuse continued until Pinky was able to get to his feet and run. Never had Brain been this mean! Or this fast. But he was going through the walls that Pinky couldn’t get through no matter how hard he tried. He was finally in a dead end, trying to scratch through the walls and he heard the familiar outcry of “Yes!” that usually meant good things.

Now? Now it just meant that Pinky was trying even harder to claw through the wall, but was having no luck at all. He turned around and Brain was there with his pencil, holding it aloft. Whimpering, tears streaming, and fear lodging itself in his throat, Pinky pressed against the wall. “Please, Brain, don’t do it! Leave me alone! I’m your _friend_ , Brain!”

Brain sneered. “You’re nothing of the kind,” he announced and the pencil came down again and again and again, each strike harder than the last with hateful words punctuating each one. Pinky tried to cover his ears, but the words penetrated as much as the pain did. “Useless- Fool- Stupid- Waste-”

There were others, but nothing mattered as much as when Brain grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and jerked him up. Pinky stared at him blearily, blinking rapidly to rid himself of the tears that blurred his vision. “Brain-” he tried, but the mouse cut him off.

“I don’t even _like_ you.” He threw Pinky aside, the taller mouse struggling to get back up, choking on his emotions. Brain didn’t even like him...? What had he done? Why not? Why- He suddenly let out a sound he’d never before had cause to make. Pure terror tore through him and came out in the form of a loud, garbled shriek. Because Brain had leapt on him and was tearing him to pieces.

-8-8-

He was alseep much, much longer than his friend had been. The aide tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture as she recorded this mouse’s reaction to the fear-inducing serum. Asleep longer, peaceful much longer. His state of fear seemed to last a shorter time, but it was certainly more intense. He was shouting and squeaking and shrieking, his hands flailing and covering his head. Even when his eyes flew open, the unusual blue corneas damp and overflowing, he continued to whimper and whine.

Feeling horrible, she could only wait for the little mouse to calm down. She gave her report quietly, glancing at the cage now and again. The smaller mouse was pacing. When his friend had begun to scream in earnest, he’d stopped and come to the wall, gripping the bars of the cage. But now he was back to pacing, impatiently awaiting his friend’s arrival. This really wasn’t fair to the poor little things. Little mice couldn’t possibly understand why they were so afraid.

When given the go-ahead by the scientist to return the mouse to his cage, the aide very gently lifted the sniffling, trembling thing. He wasn’t even saying “narf” like he usually did when he was picked up. Then again, he hadn’t done it when he’d first been taken away for the experiment. The large-headed mouse had been rendered unconscious and the little thing had been very anxious to return and make sure his cagemate was alright.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, opening the cage and depositing the mouse within. He stayed curled into a tight ball, covering his head. The other one glared at her, hands clasped behind his back. These two weren’t at all like normal mice... Maybe they _did_ understand. “I promise we won’t make either of you go through that again.”

The look Brain gave her said, “You’d better not,” but he didn’t dare utter the words aloud. He instead made his way to Pinky. This was extremely wrong. The sounds he’d made had sent ice water running through The Brain’s veins and seeing him curled into this tight ball didn’t make anything better. The little whimpers tugged at his heart and made him ashamed of his list from before.

“Pinky?” he murmured, reaching out to touch the other mouse. Pinky only made a gasping little noise and curled into a tighter ball. It was... It was infuriating that anyone would drive the innocent mouse to such a pitiable level. “Come now, Pinky.”

His voice was a little firmer than he’d intended and had Pinky curling up a little tighter. “Don’t be mad, Brain...”

His voice was raw, scratchy. Brain screwed up his face, squeezed his hands into fists, and let the anger work its way through him before relaxing again and resting a hand on Pinky’s shoulder. “I’m not angry at you, old friend. Just get up now, and you can lie down in bed.”

Pinky opened an eye, peering at Brain cautiously. “Friend?” he repeated, voice entirely too soft for Brain’s liking. It was unlike his lanky companion.

“Of course, Pinky. You know that.”

Pinky lifted his head a little bit, looked around quickly before covering his head up again. “The color’s back, Brain.”

It had never left, but Brain didn’t question the odd statement. “Yes, Pinky, all the color’s here. Get up now.”

There was a long moment of silence, Pinky quivering on the floor. “I’m scared, B-Brain...”

His heart fluttered rather painfully in his chest, so Brain rubbed a fist over it. “It was just a dream,” he murmured. “It wasn’t real.”

“It wasn’t a very good dream,” Pinky whispered. “Nobody wanted to be my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” Brain said quietly and managed to coax Pinky to his feet. “Now come along, Pinky.”

He sniffled. “Are we going to take over the world?”

“Not tonight,” he assured him, taking his hand and leading him to their bed. He gently nudged him down and Pinky stared at him with wide, teary eyes. Brain couldn’t help the well of sympathy, lifted a hand to brush it through the messy fur atop Pinky’s head. To his surprise, the mouse winced. “What is it, Pinky?”

“My head hurts, Brain...”

Contemplating that for a moment, Brain hesitantly reached out with both hands. “Lean your head forward,” he ordered and his friend complied slowly, shakingly. The shaking made him nervous, Pinky’s questioning of their friendship made him nervous. What had his dream been about? Brain wanted to ask as much as he didn’t want Pinky to dwell on the thing that he feared, so was at an impasse. With a quiet sigh, he began to carefully massage Pinky’s scalp. Pinky’s foot kicked when Brain scritched just behind his ear and the frightened little sounds became happy little sounds.

“Better?” Brain asked quietly, feeling unusually warm.

“Narf,” was the response, accompanied by a hug. It was soft and light, completely unlike Pinky’s usual flying embrace. 

Brain stepped out of it quickly, clearing his throat. “Well. Good. Now you just stay there while I-”

“Don’t go, Brain.” Pinky averted his gaze, grasping his tail and fidgeting nervously with it.

That gave Brain pause, his mind working. He’d wanted to be close to Pinky after his dream as well, but he highly doubted that the dreams had held similar content. Still, he could empathize with this clingy attitude and whatever it was in him that made him love Pinky wanted dearly to give in. But logic won the small, internal battle that ensued, and Brain shook his head. “I’m only going to get you some water, Pinky. I can’t go far until the lab closes for the day anyway.”

There was a moment of silence while Pinky looked from Brain to the water bottle and back. “Really...?”

That Pinky wouldn’t believe him was simply stunning. Brain could always count on Pinky’s faith in him, _always_. Well... Alright, yes, there was the occasional moment where a plan was taking a turn into morally ambiguous territory and Pinky’s conscious would rear its head, but that was entirely different. “Of course, really. The thimble’s just there.” He gestured brusquely and the little wince Pinky gave wasn’t lost on The Brain.

He took a step back. “Pinky...” _Are you afraid of me?_ He tried to say the words aloud, but it didn’t work; they wouldn’t come out. His heart hammered in his chest and he thought, for a moment, that this was just what he needed. If Pinky was afraid of him, this was just the chance he needed to get the mouse to leave him alone for good. No more narfs or poits or other meaningless babblings, no more inane ponderings, no more squeaky wheel awakening him in the mornings, no more Pinky.

No more Pinky. That particular thought rattled about in his mind until Brain felt the need to press his hands to either side of his cranium as if to still it. That was unacceptable. Both mind and heart seemed to be in complete agreement over that, so Brain felt nothing but shame for even having tried to consider it. He wanted the inanity.

With a sigh, Brain lowered his hands and went off to grab the thimble and fill it with water. He brought it back to the taller mouse, holding it out from a distance. Pinky looked up at him, sniffled. “Thank you, Brain...”

“Just take it, Pinky. It’ll help your throat. And don’t talk so much either or you’ll make yourself feel worse.” The still frightened mouse nodded slightly, taking a very careful sip of water, his gaze still somehow trained on Brain as if he expected the large headed mouse to do something... cruel. Brain couldn’t stand that, couldn’t stand the implications of it. Pinky’s biggest fear was _him_? That was... That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t _right_.

He forgot about his list entirely, marching closer to Pinky. When he recoiled, trying to draw away, Brain covered his hands on the thimble and held them there. “It was a dream, Pinky. A very bad, frightening dream. But I assure you it was false. What happened in the dream will never happen in reality.”

“B-but I woke up and my head hurt...”

“Yes, Pinky, I know it did.” So Brain reached up, touched Pinky’s head and ran his fingers through his fur gently. “I would never intentionally cause you pain. You’re my...” He searched for the words that would properly soothe the mouse yet leave him without a feeling of mortification.

“Your what, Brain?” 

“My... my dearest friend.” The words seemed inadequate somehow, so Brain slid his hand down, placed it over Pinky’s heart. The tears were still shining in his eyes, but they seemed brighter at the admission. “Finish your water. When the scientists leave, I’ll make you some hot chocolate to further soothe.”

His tail wagged and he was smiling again, which warmed Brain as much as the hug had. “Oh, Brain... _Zort_.”

Zort, Brain repeated. Inanity. It shouldn’t be so charming. It shouldn’t make him want to wrap his arms around Pinky and hold on. It did, though, and Brain could only sigh and pat Pinky’s cheek. “I have work to do, Pinky. We’re losing two nights in a row, so tomorrow’s plan must be perfect.”

“Alright,” Pinky agreed, ears perked, smile bright. He could never hold a grudge, absolutely never. It was just another thing about Pinky that managed to do all the things it shouldn’t. And it frustrated Brain that he couldn’t stop _feeling_ all the things it did to him, all the things Pinky did to him.

The frustration stayed hidden, overshadowed by a tenderness Brain would never normally allow himself to show. He scritched behind Pinky’s ear again, let his friend press against his hand. His foot kicked, a little “narf” was uttered, and Brain forced his hand away. There was too much in him, he decided. Too much for Pinky in him and he was entirely too uncomfortable with it to be able to properly figure it all out.

Would it just go away...? Brain dearly hoped so. It needed to go away, all these feelings and emotions. Everything would be so much better if their world would just return to normal. No more fears or dealing with them after.

Brain sighed and walked away, grabbing a pencil and shoving his notebook to the floor of the cage. He flipped it open and began going through it, finding a blank page to begin a new plot on. He looked up at Pinky, was surprised to see the wide-eyed stare. “Pinky?”

“My tummy’s doing funny things, Brain, and my heart’s going real fast.”

Brain tapped the end of the pencil against the blank page, considering. “It’s probably just a reaction to the dream. You’ll be fine, Pinky.”

Silence resumed and Brain returned to his work. He went through several sheets of paper, each one torn out and crumpled up. With a frustrated huff, he leaned back and was startled by Pinky’s proximity. The pencil fell, clocked Pinky atop the head. It was an odd mix of pain and pleasure for the mouse, his headache causing the pain, the bop itself causing its usual rush of pleasure. But it was “Ow!” that he yelped and Brain jumped up and grabbed Pinky’s hands before he could lift them to cover his head.

“Pinky! What on- You startled me.” He released Pinky’s hands to run his own over Pinky’s head, gently parting the fur to see if the pencil had left a welt. “You don’t look any worse, but I’m sure that bop didn’t assist your headache.”

“I think it helped a _lot_ , Brain. My head hurts worse than ever!”

Brain opened his mouth to utter a scathing response in return, but nothing came out but, “I’m sure it does, Pinky. Did you want something?”

“I ran out of water.” He picked up the thimble that had fallen to the cage floor and tilted it to show Brain just how empty it was. “See? And I wanted to see what you were doin’ ‘cause you were making grumpy noises like rager-frager grr. Poit.”

Mimicking the “grumby noises” tickled his throat, causing him to begin coughing. Brain rose, tearing out his latest displeasure. Rather than crumpling this page up, though, he turned it over and offered it and the pencil to his friend when his coughing fit subsided. “Here, Pinky. Draw something while I get you more water.”

Pinky took the pencil, smiling. “So you’re not mad that I got all in the way?”

“You weren’t in the way, Pinky. Your interruption was hardly a negative occurrence. Perhaps a small break is just what I need.” He was being generous only because Pinky was suffering, he told himself, not because of any uncomfortable realizations. And his plans were certainly not suffering due to the realization either.

But Pinky reached out and grabbed his hand, jerking him closer. Brain overbalanced and tumbled right into the other mouse’s lap, where he was gathered close and squeezed almost too tightly to breathe. “Oh, Brain! You _do_ like me! _Narf_!”

“Pinky!” he gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on any surface so that he could push back from the crushing embrace. The latched onto Pinky’s upper arms and he was able to squirm back far enough to breathe and tilted his head back to glare at his excitable cagemate. “What is the _meaning_ of this?!”

“You _like_ me! Oh, I’m _so_ happy, Brain!”

Brain’s ears dropped and, were he human, his face assuredly would’ve gone pale. “I...” He couldn’t tell Pinky that, no, he didn’t. That would be an outright lie and hurt Pinky more than Brain was _ever_ willing to hurt his closest friend. He awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Yes, Pinky, I like you. Now let me go this instant!”

Absolutely delighted, Pinky gave him one last eye-popping squeeze before releasing his friend. “ _Narf_!”

Ignoring the exclamation, Brain wiped imaginary dust off of himself and tried to ignore the way his entire body was tingling from the exuberant embrace. He snatched up the thimble and walked off while Pinky plucked the pencil back up and began scribbling in earnest.

When Brain returned, the glance he stole at the page just showed meaningless scribbles. But Pinky noticed him looking and threw himself over the page. “Don’t look, Brain! I’m not done!”

At the rate he seemed to be going, he wouldn’t be done until the entire page was covered in graphite. “I won’t look, then. Here, now, take your water. Don’t drink it so quickly. Take your time,” he clarified. “Savor it.”

“But how will I draw _and_ drink?”

Brain gave him a beleaguered stare. “You take a sip, you draw a while, you take another sip, you draw some more - it’s that simple, Pinky.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “Right.” He took a sip, set the thimble by his side, and went to work yet again while Brain went off to fetch another pencil. “Do we have colors, Brain?”

“Not until the scientists leave, Pinky.” Brain dropped down across from his friend and got back to work, a plan coming much easier with Pinky humming happily nearby.


	4. Chapter 4

By the end of the day, his plan was completed but for a few bits of information he would have to double-check online, but it was possibly that replacing all the words helium with a hallucinogenic that would cause such worldwide chaos that he’d be able to step in as ultimate ruler was viable! He smiled broadly and leaned back, giving the plan a last look-over. “Yes!”

Pinky jolted a little, had to turn the pencil over and rub the eraser over the extra line he’d just created. Brain’s smile faded. That was... odd. He looked up, blue eyes wide. “What is it, Brain?”

“My new plan, Pinky! We’re going to pose as,” he shuddered, “clowns.”

“Oh, I _love_ clowns!” His eyes had gone back to normal and he was back to drawing, but Brain was still a bit worried nonetheless. He set the plan aside - they wouldn’t be implementing it until the following night anyway and Pinky was absolutely useless at remembering plans while they were occurring, let alone retaining one for twenty-four short hours. 

Rising, he went over to Pinky and patted his head. “How are you feeling, Pinky?”

“Oh, much better, Brain! I’m almost done with my drawing. It just needs lots and lots of pretty colors!”

“Of course, old friend. I’m sure the crayons you favor are exactly where you last left them.” Or where Brain had left them. Pinky had a habit of leaving crayons scattered on the countertops while Brain had to put them into their box and away in a drawer.

“Goody!” Pinky jumped up and clutched his drawing to his chest while Brain took careful aim with his pencil and made several quick calculations in his head. He threw it, watched it slam into a ruler that rested precariously on one edge of the counter. It dropped, accelerated enough to smack into an eraser that bounced over to a clipboard. It flipped, sending a pair of scissors flying right at their cage. One sharp blade fitted neatly in the keyhole and, when the scissors fell, it turned the lock and the cage door slid open.

Brain deftly hopped out with Pinky right behind. “Egad, Brain! Brilliant!”

He looked over, lips twitching with pride in his own accomplishment. It was no secret that he could’ve picked the lock in just about any meaningless, simplistic way, but he enjoyed showing off his skills to his friend. “Thank you, Pinky.” He bent over, painstakingly shoved open a drawer, and leapt in to locate Pinky’s box of crayons.

Pinky bounced from foot to foot, waiting patiently, his thoughts swirling in his mind. Brain, the real Brain, was _so_ much nicer than the Brain had been in that nasty white mice. _His_ Brain was all sorry after hurting his head with a pencil. And his Brain said “Yes!” and was all excited about his fun-fun silly-willy plans. _And_ his Brain let him hug him really, really tightly and liked him and got him crayons and- “My crayons!” he cried and began to cough yet again.

Up came an extra thimble, landing just atop the box of crayons Brain had located, and then the mouse himself followed. “Alright, Pinky, take your crayons and color your drawing. I’m going to go and make you some hot chocolate for that cough of yours. I don’t want your throat getting any worse for tomorrow night.”

“But, Brain...” He narrowed his eyes slightly, putting lots and lots of effort into his ponderin’. “You don’t like when I talk when we have tomorrow nights. You bop me on the head and call me names.”

Brain was quiet for a moment. This was true. He usually bopped Pinky on the head because of something foolish the mouse had uttered. Luckily, it tended to relieve his tension and make Pinky laugh, so it was never a negative thing. But still... Without Pinky’s inanity, he’d probably be a lot less frustrated throughout the implementation of his plot.

The consideration of that, however, lasted only a fingersnap’s worth of time before Brain dismissed the thoughts and shook his head. “Pinky, your voice is as much a help as it is a hindrance. And I wouldn’t dream of taking you anywhere tonight while your head aches and your ticklish throat causes such sporadic coughing. Contrary to whatever you hold in your empty head, I don’t enjoy your suffering!” he declared and was smiled blandly at. Pinky clearly hadn’t understood most of that speech, so he rubbed a hand against his expansive brow and tried to think of a way to rephrase.

“Thank you, Brain. You’re my _best_ best friend in the whole wide world!” Brain let his hand fall, gazing at Pinky with a frankly stunned expression. “I don’t like when you’re feeling all bad and terrible either! Troz!”

How could he love this creature? This childish mouse who had the emotional consistency of a Kardashian sister. Brain walked back to Pinky, laid his hands on his friend’s arms. “You’re my best friend too, Pinky. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” And, when given the opportunity in the past, he hadn’t.

His eyes went teary. “Oh, Brain...”

“Yes.” Brain cleared his throat and quickly spun away to leap from the counter. “I’ll return shortly.”

Smiling, Pinky dropped down and started to color. He picked up one of his crayons and gasped. “Mellow chartreuse! Perfect!” 

Brain glanced back and only shook his head when he saw the _pink_ crayon Pinky had selected. “Idiot,” he murmured fondly before slipping into the kitchen.

It wasn’t very long before Pinky made his way into the kitchen, skipping across the linoleum floor and climbing up the counter to get to Brain and the boiling water. He was stirring now and Pinky noticed with delight that there were _two_ thimbles. Oh, Brain _never_ had hot chocolate with him! “Brain! I finished my drawing!”

He looked down from his perch atop a large coffee mug. “Good. Hand me those thimbles, Pinky.”

“Are you having hot chocolate too?!” Pinky’s excitement palpable, Brain couldn’t help but nod. There was something... gratifying about delighting his companion, no matter how simple it was to do. “Hoo-rah!” the mouse cheered and his coughing had some of Brain’s pleasure dimming. He really had no business forgetting that his friend had suffered at the hands of science that day.

It was one of the reasons why his schemes never delved into the realm of actually causing injury to people. He didn’t naturally gravitate towards such extreme violence, after all. The biggest reason, though, was the mouse dancing in silly circles despite his coughing fit. Brain knew, had been shown several times over, that Pinky’s moral ground was firmly under his feet. And because Brain was (and how he hated this metaphor) wrapped around Pinky’s finger, Pinky’s moral ground was under _his_ feet as well.

He’d come to this humbling realization sometime between the water boiling and his precarious transfer of it to a mug and had nearly scalded himself because of it. Ruling the world came first, came before everything. He’d been trying to convince himself of that, hoping that it would help him stop indulging in the belief that he could possibly be in love with Pinky.

It had done the opposite, merely further confirming and strengthening the belief. He was in love with Pinky. It was inescapable, but at least Brain had been able to convince himself that it changed nothing. He didn’t actually have to _tell_ Pinky of his pesky feelings. And now that he was there, excited simply because Brain was going to join his consumption of a beverage, he could admit to himself that... he rather liked the warm feeling in his chest.

He hopped down, the thimbles full of hot chocolate. “Well, Pinky... How about a movie?”

“Another black ‘n’ white one, Brain...?”

There was a little quiver in his voice and, remembering how quickly he’d fallen asleep the night before, Brain sighed. Pinky had given him a cinematic treat yesterday; he could tolerate an inane, foolish film tonight. “No, Pinky. How about the...” He took a moment to try and think of some of the drivel Pinky enjoyed. “The Care Hares?”

Pinky gasped, snatching Brain up so fast he ended up scalded by hot liquid after all. Again.

-8-8-

It was torture. Simple honest torture. Cartoon rabbits with happy little symbols on their chests sang happy little songs about their happy little lives and made others as sickeningly happy as they themselves were. Brain entertained thoughts of potential acid trips for the poor animators and, at the realization that the movie was an hour and half long, also entertained thoughts of his mind simply melting and dripping from his ears.

Nothing in real life was like this, nor could it be. The world would be bored within a week; Brain had gotten bored within the first four minutes. At least Pinky was happy with it. He clapped along with the songs, gasped when it was appropriate to gasp, giggled when the writers threw in a pun so lame a kindergartner would’ve found it hackneyed.

Sighing, Brain crossed his legs and fidgeted with the colorful drawing he’d been presented. A round white blob was being held by a ovular white blob. The only sign that it was supposed to be the two of them was the “mellow chartreuse” in the circle ears, scribbled hands and feet, and the lines that were supposed to be tails. The outline of pencil only helped so much.

But still, The Brain was touched. Around them was a big, red heart. It was a little rough at the edges, one hump at the top much wider than it’s partner, but it was precious nonetheless. Pinky was precious nonetheless. The irritating simpleton had colored in every last inch of the piece of paper. There were happy little rainbows and a happy little sun and happy little clouds... It should’ve been as sickening as the film he was suffering through was.

Instead he was planning to laminate it and keep it forever.

“Pinky,” he murmured, “you’ve turned me into a sentimental fool.”

“What’s that, Brain?” Pinky blinked at him, confused but smiling. He hadn’t heard.

Brain shook his head. “I said I’m getting rather tired. I may lie down.”

Pinky scrambled up while the Care Hares did cartwheels in sync with one another and threw the blanket entirely over Brain’s head. Brain pushed it back, staring disdainfully at his companion, but Pinky’s bright grin and the thumping of his tail convinced Brain that the scathing remark wasn’t worth it, but a thank you was. He started to move to lay in his spot, but Pinky quickly scooted closer and tucked an arm around Brain’s side. His meaning was quickly apparent and Brain turned red to the tip of his tail. It was acceptable for Pinky to fall asleep against him because Pinky was a child at heart, but Brain was decidedly not.

Mortified, he struggled with the choice between remaining where he was and moving away to lie down. But then he was just pulled into Pinky’s lap, blanket and all, and was trapped. His cheek rested against Pinky’s chest, his head tucked beneath his chin. “Pinky...”

“This is the very best part, Brain,” he whispered and Brain gave in. He was whispering, allowing Brain some quiet if he wished for it. After a brief hesitation, Brain relaxed and lifted a hand, curling his fingers into the fur of Pinky’s chest. 

It didn’t take him long to discover that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, not with the Care Hares rhyming love with every possible word they could get away with. And to think there were another forty-five horrendous minutes to go...

With a heavy sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself to sleep. The warmth of Pinky against him, though, and the tremors of his body when he suppressed a giggle and the way one of his hands had begun absently stroking up and down his back was all incredibly distracting, as was the sheer _brightness_ of what was going on just outside of his closed eyelids. He turned his head, pressing much of his face against his cagemate and let his scent envelope him. Brain relaxed further, working complicated quantum mechanics problems out in his head to distract him from the song that didn’t want to end.

How many words _did_ rhyme with love anyway? Too many, were you to ask Brain at that moment.

It went on and on and the movie itself went on and on with Brain trying to fall asleep all the while. Pinky came to believe that The Brain _was_ asleep, so kept his enjoyment of the movie very quiet. When he just couldn’t help the laughter, he muffled it in Brain’s head. And when it was time to clap as the credits began to roll, he did so like Brain had showed him the one time he’d pretended to be Cher in the fancy golfing tournament.

Brain showed him things all the time, Pinky reflected. Simply wonderful things that were simply wonderful all the time when he was with Brain! Even when his plans sort of unraveled themselves, it was all such fun. They were always together.

And no badly dreamed dreams were going to convince him otherwise. Everything here had color and Brain never, ever left him behind. He never bopped him so it hurt and he even watched silly movies with him. The Care Hares were the most colorful things in the whole wide world and he was so _glad_ that Brain would let him watch it all the way without making him turn it off even when he was tired.

He gave his best friend a gentle hug, not wanting to awaken him and make him all grump-grumbly. “Oh, I just _love_ you, Brain! _Narf_!”

The narf was a little loud and probably would’ve woken Brain if he’d truly been asleep. In the state he was in, however, it did nothing but melt his heart entirely. The narf, the declaration... They combined to destroy Brain’s heart entirely and steal it away for good. There was no hope now, none.

With a falsely sleepy sound, Brain adjusted in Pinky embrace as if trying to find a more comfortable spot. His arms wound around Pinky’s neck and held, his cheek rubbing against Pinky’s chest as gently as could be. He could feel Pinky’s answering nuzzle against his head in a way that made his ear twitch involuntarily, and then Pinky giggled softly before reaching out his tail to click the remote and turn everything off.

There was a buzz of pride - Brain hadn’t even had to tell him to turn things off - that mixed with the warmth created when Pinky laid them both down, covered them with the blanket, and stayed close.

Well, he stayed close largely because Brain had yet to release him and had no intention of doing so. Ever. His greatest fear was letting this mouse go. He simply wasn’t ready to test that fear and was comfortable in the knowledge that he never would be.

 _Oh, I just love you too, Pinky._ His lips twitched slightly. _Narf._


End file.
